


Wednesday afternoon class

by Morethancupcake



Series: Tarentelle [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet Dancer Castiel, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Fluff, Jealous Dean, Kid Fic, M/M, Russian Castiel, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:56:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3499265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morethancupcake/pseuds/Morethancupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel takes time away from the Opera to teach ballet to a group of little kids. Seems like Dean isn't the only one falling for the dancer. And seems like Dean doesn't like the competition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wednesday afternoon class

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt : "Wait a minute. Are you jealous?"

The Wednesday afternoon class is packed. Little kids everywhere, giggling and chatting around, forgetting for a while to be self conscious about their little leotards. Castiel is exhausted. He spent way too much time training at the Opera, and he can feel some of his muscles complaining about the rush to the little studio, but Anna had been really convincing on the phone.

The kids know him already. They’re all fascinated by his tattoos, it seems, and it’s actually quite easy for him to keep them quiet and obedient.

They start the class with some jumping around, and some dancing to some pop songs, just to tire them out, and to make them easier to deal with. Castiel doesn’t believe in the shouting he had been raised to accept. He remembers being a little boy, alone in his underwear, parents all gone, terrified in front of the teachers who were screaming at him and slapping his arms and his legs, molding his body into the right position.

He remembers Russia, and the cold. He remembers the bruises on his body and the hunger, when Gabriel couldn’t find money to send him for food. He remembers his toes raw, and the insults some professors were shouting at them, a class of little boys, wide eyed and terrified.

He doesn’t regret it, but this belongs to a past he doesn’t want to bring here. He speaks softly, and he tries to smile more. He doesn’t touch much, but he sometimes brushes his fingers to put little feet closer to the right position, a little pudgy arms to a more acceptable place.

None of them will ever be on stage, they will probably never see a real ballet, but they are dreaming, and it makes him happy to be part of it.

Work is all about pain, training, again and again, to reach perfection. He’s supposed to make people believe it’s effortless, painless. This is stepping into a fairy tale, seeing them all twirl and jump, serious faces breaking into giggles of delight.

At the end of the class, everyone is clapping and smiling, and it’s almost surreal to him. Classes usually ended with tears, and people running to the bathroom to sob and beg for someone to take them back home. The kids are all running to their parents, telling them about class, and Mister Novak, and he blushes when he feels the look some of the mothers (and fathers) are sending him. He hides under his sweater, and goes to the closet to grab enough to clean the bar and the floor, when he feels a little hand on his leg.

"Yes Thomas ? Do you need anything ?" Thomas is one of the oldest here. Castiel doesn’t take Anna’s classes often, but he’s pretty sure the little boy has been here for a while, and he seems to be enjoying himself.

"Are you going to replace miss Milton ?"

"No, not at all, don’t worry." He kneels to the floor, and can barely hide his grimace. Gosh his knees are killing him. "She’s having a little problem today, but she will be there next week, don’t worry." He can se the little boy’s eyes on his tattoos, the one on his shoulder, very difficult to hide. There’s been so much complain about them when they started to speak of him as a potential lead. Thomas watches them like he’s hypnotized.

"I wish you could have a class. I want to be in your class. I want to be a dancer like you." Castiel tries to hide his smirk, and he winks at Dean, who somehow managed to come in, and is now cleaning for him, before answering. He remembers the first time he had been lucky enough to dance with Vassili, who was the star of his school, just before graduation. He remembers the infatuation, and he tries to be as gentle as the boy has been at that time.

"Well I started like you, in classes like miss Milton’s. It’s important to learn the basics, first. Then you’ll be ready to really dance."

"So I’ll be able to dance with you ?" Dean makes a sound that sounds suspiciously like a curse, and Castiel has to use all his willpower not to laugh.

"I’m sure you’ll be a fantastic dancer, Thomas. But I can see your mom waiting for you. See you next time, and keep practicing, okay ?"

He loves children. They’re amazing, and they keep him on his toes. His work is too serious, too solemn. Kids can make everything fun.

He drops a kiss on Dean’s temple, because while he had been talking, his boyfriend had cleaned the whole area, leaving the room clean and smelling fresh for the rest of the day.

"Thank you, Dean. I’ll make it up to you." Dean is tall, and wide, and warm. He waits until they’re alone in the little dressing room to push him against the wall, and to lift him in his arms, taking a bit of the pain away.

"Yeah, yeah. We need to get you home, you need a bath, and then I’ll rub your legs. How does that sound ?" Castiel is too busy tracing his boyfriend’s arms and chest to answer. Dean is a real man. His muscles aren’t defined like the other dancers’, his stomach is soft, his shoulders wide. He looks healthy, strong, manly. He’s intoxicating. "Okay, okay, I get it. Let me grab your bag, and then we’re going, okay ?"

"Yes. I just need to leave a note to Anna, and then we’ll go." He steals another kiss before searching for the little notebook Anna usualy leaves for her replacements. "Do you think you’re in the mood for a little cooking lesson ? I really want to have bortsch tonight, and we got all the ingredients…"

"Yeah, whatever." Castiel frowns but keeps writing. Dean is tired too, it seems. They both need to rest tonight. "You know I would love to be able to, right ?"

"Be able to what ? Cook ?" Dean rolls his eyes at him, and burries his hands on his pockets. He’s almost pouting, and it’s so endearing Castiel has to leave the notebook and the pen. He’ll phone Anna this week-end.

"Dance. With you. I mean, you’re spending your day with dancers, and I wish.. I mean." An aborted move, and Dean’s hand is safe in his pocket again. "I guess…"

"Dean." He frames this face, this beautiful face with his hands, and he puts all his love into the green eyes. "You know I love you, right ? " A tiny nod. "I would’ve loved you if you had been with me at the Bolchoï, and I love you because you have no idea what it is."

"Hey ! I know…" Castiel’s thumb comes to shut him up, firm against the plush lips.

"You’ll probably never dance with me on stage, but we’ll dance in the kitchen tonight, we’ll dance at out wedding, and chances are we’ll dance at out kids graduation and embarass the Hell out of them. Okay ?" Another nod. "Now are we ready to go home ? You promised a leg rub, and I’ll make you food."

When they exit the building, Thomas is still on the parking lot, running around with other kids, whiles their parents are talking. They scream goodbyes, and Castiel waves at them, before he can feel a hand grabbing his and pushing him a little, and Dean’s lips are attached to his neck.

It ends as quickly as it started, and Castiel can se the look of horror on some kids faces. A little girl looks utterly betrayed, and another is making gagging noises.

"What was that about ?"

"Nothing." Dean opens his door for him, and goes to the other side of the car. "Do we need to stop to the shop for that weird cream you need ?"

And suddenly it clicks.

"Wait a minute. Are you jealous ?"

"Get in the car, Novak."

"You are. You’re jealous. Of a five-year-old."

"Shut up." Castiel lift an eyebrow and his boyfriend relaxes. Dean’s laugh is small, it’s almost a giggle. "Get in the car, Novak, you’re making weird beet soup for me tonight, remember ?"

"I love you, Winchester."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you :) You can read it on tumblr : http://iwanttopizzamanyou.tumblr.com/post/112984502059/wednesday-afternoon-class
> 
> Comments, kudos and likes make me really really happy :)


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